“At the hacienda of San Luis.”
The student summoned all his recollections; but these only carried him as far as the hacienda of San Diego.
“You must be mistaken?” said he. “It is the hacienda of San Diego, is it not?”
“Oh, no,” replied the domestic. “We left San Diego yesterday; we were no longer safe there. What folly of you, señor, to act as you did! No matter how good a patriot one may be, it’s not necessary to proclaim it from the housetops.”
“I do not comprehend you, my good friend,” said Lantejas. “Perhaps it is the fever that is still troubling my head.”
“What I have said is clear enough,” rejoined the domestic. “We were obliged to quit San Diego, where the royalist troops would have arrested us—on account of the loud declaration of his political opinions made by a certain Don Cornelio Lantejas.”
“Cornelio Lantejas!” cried the student, in a tone of anguish, “why that’s myself!”
“Por Dios! I well know that. Your honour took good care everybody should know your name: since out of the window of the hacienda you shouted with all your voice—proclaiming my master Generalissimo of all the insurgent forces; and we had the greatest difficulty to hinder you from marching upon Madrid.”
“Madrid—in Spain?”
“Bah! two hundred leagues of sea was nothing to you to traverse. ‘It is I!’ you cried, ‘I, Cornelio Lantejas, who take upon me to strike down the tyrant!’ In fine, we were obliged to decamp, bringing you with us in a litter—for my master would not abandon so zealous a partisan, who had compromised himself, moreover, in the good cause. Well, we have arrived here at San Luis; where, thanks to a strong body of men who have joined us, you may have an opportunity of proclaiming your patriotism as loudly as you please. For yourself, it can do no further harm, since, no doubt, there is a price placed upon your head before this time.”